My Name Is Memory

1 0 . 1 2 . 2 0 1 5

“Joy, once lost, is pain.”

•°•°•°•°•

To the one from the star,

Every word you'd spoken to me now feels like a promise of thorns. They prick; they make me bleed. They bring tears of sorrow and makes me sing mournful songs for the people I've lost.

I never thought I'd have to pay a price so high for loving you.

I thought I was smart. But I had never been more naïve.

It was probably the last day of school when things changed for me. After my brother's incident, I used to refrain from associating at all costs. I used to avoid people like the plague. Things had been difficult at home, and I never thought anyone would even try to understand my situation. The usual “I'm sorry” and “I'm sure your brother rests in peace” used to make me feel sick.

I never spoke to anyone again. And no one tried to push me into having company either. I was essentially a loner.

And I didn't mind it much. I thought I didn't mind it much, until you came along and showed me what friendship could mean. What a stark contradiction it was to the disease called loneliness I carried in my heart like a sack full of burden.

I never thought I'd be able to make friends again.

But things changed.

It was last day of school before the winter break and we were almost done with our classes. I wanted to collect all my books from my locker just in case if I needed them during the recess for essays and other homeworks.

What I didn't expect was a crowd awaiting my presence near my locker. I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't understand the people's gathering. I had half a heart to change my course and walk out of school premises, towards the car parking area where you probably had been waiting for me.

But I couldn't. Mostly because I was in urgent need of my books, and partly because I was curious.

I remember carefully and quietly walking towards the crowd, squeezing through them and finally making it to the front to face my precious locker.

I could've sworn that everything was alright in the morning. There were no stickers, no balloons, no confettis, and definitely no glitters sticking to the metal door of my small locker.

I didn't understand at all.

Nonetheless, I twisted the key and opened it, acutely aware of my school crowd waiting behind me.

“Don't you guys have better things to do?” I'd asked, only to receive snickers in response.

“That's right. Let's leave, mate. This is useless.” And slowly they left me alone in my own little corner in the long corridor.

It was nerve-racking. Suddenly my locker had been all decorated by someone that I wasn't aware of. And then the attention from my school mates which honestly wasn't good news either.

I didn't understand any of it so I decided to just collect my books and hurry along.

But there sitting neatly beside my pile of texts was a blue envelope that I was sure didn't belong to me. I wanted to take a peek and see who it belonged to. But with a perfunctory will, I realised it probably was meant for me anyway considering the decoration on the locker and all.

Who could it be from? It wasn't likely to be from a friend considering I didn't have one. And it wasn't my birthday either.

I almost considered you as an option but it was obvious you wouldn't be allowed into the school premises. And even if you needed to pull a prank on me, you could've easily done it at home.

It wasn't from a friend, nor from you.

My curiosity had got the best of me. So I just tore the seal open, and pulled out a letter from within the envelope.

When I unfolded the sheet, I got the whiff of it without meaning to and realised it vaguely smelled of honey and raspberry. A weird but essentially pleasant scent.

I didn't realise my hands were shaking. I didn't realise my breaths had deepened. I didn't realise there was this swarm of butterflies tickling in my stomach. And I definitely didn't realise it was a love poem written on the page in beautiful, cursive handwriting until I read it twice, thrice….or probably the umpteenth time.

How was it even possible?

•°•°•°•°•

A/N

So not one of my favourite parts tbh. I feel like my writing has been degrading in quality and I don't like it...? Meh.

But yeah, this whole entry came as a shocker to me too lol. So any ideas of who this secret admirer could be? 😏

Also, that poem is Bright Star by John Keats. If you can decipher the meaning, well and good. If not, just ask me in the comments so I can explain and you can see how perfectly it fits. Like, I couldn't believe my eyes when I found it. O.o

Oh and the beautiful cover currently being used was designed by the amazing elektika! Isn't it gorgeous?! 😍

Anyway, thank you so much for reading. ❤ Please let me know your thoughts. I'd love to hear your theories!

~Jenna